nine2five 16 Significant Others
by Marc Vun Kannon
Summary: A little down time for our heroes. My revision of Role Models starts off with a bang.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **I'm not sure what I can do with the Role Models in this story. Join me as I find out.

* * *

"_There's lots more hives of scum and villainy more wretched than this one." _

"_The Oceans of Elvises Chapel of Love?"_

"_I have no idea."_

"_I need to tell you about my father."_

* * *

Sarah Bartowski lied to her husband.

She didn't mean to. At the time, she'd meant every word. She even remembered saying them. "I can't wait to get you home, Mr. Bartowski."

Now they were in her car, on their way home, which waited for them an hour away, at normal surface speeds, and here she was driving at normal surface speeds. The road moved past the windows, slowly, slow enough that her thoughts could keep up. Chuck was confused. Even the Porsche seemed to be confused. Sarah was not confused, not anymore.

_She was here. He was here. _

The feeling filled her heart, the memory filled her mind. His face, smiling that smile beyond the haze of the veil as the wedding guy said something about marriage. For so long she'd refused to think about those days, that time. Refused to look at the diamond for fear of its setting. A diamond in the rough. _Very_ rough.

But Chuck had taken even that diamond and made it…sparkle. She'd thought her spy life was hard, but nothing was as hard as that diamond, and her spy life, a life of masks and secrets, had given way to it.

_It was real._

* * *

Chuck was beginning to worry. It wasn't the speed she was driving, not exactly. God knew he'd been wanting her to drive like a sane human being for years, and now here she was doing it. It would be a poor repayment for an answered prayer to regret it, but he could do without the stunned-ox expression on the face of the woman with the steering wheel in her hands.

He decided on a subtle approach. "Wow, I'd totally forgotten that poor CHP guy. I didn't think he was ever going to stop chasing us."

"I don't think he had a choice, Chuck," she said absently. "I spotted some melted rubber tracks in the road on the way back."

Aaand that was it for the subtle approach. "Were you as shocked by Ellie as I was? I think she was pushing faster than you were pulling."

"I didn't notice."

_No, of course you didn't._ He could think of a lot of reasons for that, none of which had any explanatory power at all for her behavior now. "I guess she had a lot to get back to. In fact, I'm surprised we're going home, what with the Ring–"

She dropped one hand from the wheel, took his hand in hers. He shut up.

They were going home.

He looked up, noticed her noticing everything _but_ him, a slight smile on her face. Facing forward, he joined her watching the world move. It was a beautiful evening for it.

* * *

Alex looked down at her hand on Morgan's. "I'm…sorry about what I did this afternoon, closing the door in your face like that."

He hated that she was sad, because of him. "Alex…Miss McHugh, I'm sorry if I did anything to hurt your feelings today-"

"You didn't," she said quickly, but then her brain caught up with her mouth. "Well, you did, but it wasn't a feeling you could ever have known about so I was wrong to shut you out the way I did." She let go of his hand.

He held on. "Please. Tell me what I did, so that I can never do it again."

She pulled, and he let go of her hand. When she sat in the room's only chair, he smiled and removed his suit coat and loosened his tie, moving to sit on the bed across the room.

"My father was a Marine lieutenant, on a mission in Honduras in 1989," she said quietly. "He was engaged to my mother, and they were supposed to get married when he came back, but that didn't happen."

His brows rose. "He never married her?"

Her face fell. "He never came back."

_Way to go, Mr. Foot-in-Mouth._ "I'm sorry. What happened?"

"I don't know. Every time my mother asked the question, all they would say was 'it's classified.'" She sniffed. "When I got old enough to ask myself, all they ever told me was 'it's classified'." Tears started to fall, but her voice was mostly steady. "I got to hate those words, the very idea that someone out there knew what happened and wouldn't tell me…"

_Where are you going, Morgan?_

_It's classified._

Morgan pulled out his brand new, very expensive, and utterly ornamental handkerchief and offered it to her. He turned away politely to fiddle with stuff, anything to avoid looking at her as her put herself back in order. It also helped hide his frown. _How could one man's death be so important? To do that to her?_

She sniffed, a signal that it was safe, and he turned around, smile back in place. "I…suppose it's too late to point out that the FBI isn't the best place to work if you hate words like 'classified.'"

She smiled. "I found that out. But…I think…getting to know that there's a reason things are classified, that might be enough."

_Why should it have to be? _"What's your father's name?"

* * *

Sarah redeemed her lie in the garage. No sooner had they gotten out of the car than she plastered herself all over her husband, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his shoulders. That left it to Chuck to finally get them both into the house, blind and mute, feeling his way along. His legs were weakening, and he knew he had to find someplace soft for them to fall on before they gave out completely. Like a bed, or something.

* * *

Devon opened the front door. "Hey, babe, sorry I'm late, we had a procedure that wasn't quite as easy as we hoped it would…" The smell hit him first, the normal miracles his wife regularly produced from their kitchen and—roses? "Ellie?" He looked, but she wasn't in the kitchen, or at the table, laid out with candles and the good china, even a bottle of something chilling.

"Hi, honey," she called softly.

He looked in the living room, and there she was. Lounging. The last word his brain supplied before it shut down at the sight of her in—that gown, and—what had she done with her hair? "Babe?" his mouth ran on without him.

"You caught me," she said with a soft laugh, laying a hand on a large book on the table. "I was just looking at our wedding photos." She rose smoothly. "Chuck's awake and healthy. You promised to help me celebrate," she reminded him as she sauntered over.

He watched the cloth move around her body, or her body move under the cloth, or…um... "I did, didn't I?"

"Mm-hmm." She ran her hands up his muscular arms, kissed him not so gently. "You hungry?"

He wasn't a brain surgeon but he was smart enough for this. "Not…necessarily. You?"

She gripped his tie, pulled him after her as she backed away. "Not for food."

* * *

Chuck woke up, dying of thirst. A small dusty groan escaped his lips, fortunately too whispery thin to disturb his wonderfully eager and terribly enthusiastic wife. He groaned again, and rolled sideways so as to disturb neither bed nor blanket as he fled, that is, left the room. He shuffled down the hall, slowly, so slowly, fairly certain that the kitchen was in this general direction.

He turned the corner, and something leapt at him. "Ah!"

"Chuck!" yelled Sarah, brandishing something he couldn't identify in the gloom. "You scared me."

_She_ was scared.

She lowered her weapon, whatever it was. "Did I wake you?"

"About a half a second ago, yeah," he panted. "This, this is why I tell you to leave the lightbulb in the refrigerator!"

"This is why I keep telling you to put everything back in the refrigerator in the proper place!" She shook her weapon, and it gurgled. "I really don't want to have to give any snipers that may be out there a target just so I can tell the difference between milk and orange juice."

"The OJ has that little spout on the side."

"Okay, bad example, but you know what I mean. Getting a mouthful of grapefruit juice when you're expecting lemonade is a bit of a shock, let me tell you."

She wasn't ever going to let that one go, was she? "Sorry."

"Take a step to your left."

He took a step the left. "Why?"

The lights came on, blinding him. "It puts you out of the line of sight from the window." She poured something into a glass.

"Is that the milk or the OJ?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased.

"Yes, I would," he said, blinking furiously. "I could really use some Vitamin Ds—I mean Cs, C, right about now." He could finally see her clearly. "Oh, my."

Sarah spread her arms and stuck out her barely-covered chest. "I didn't get anything spilled on me, did I?" she asked, looking down.

_Gahr. _"Not yet."

She looked, an expression of innocence on her face. "What did you say, sweetie?"

He stepped back, putting the refrigerator door safely between them. "Nothing, dear, I'm just clothing—I mean, closing the refrigerator door."

She moved closer, putting the juice container on the counter as she stood very close and drained her glass. "Don't forget your juice," she said, handing it to him. "It's important to stay hydrated."

"Right," he agreed weakly. "Hydrated."

"Don't be too long." She turned and…sashayed away.

_How does she _do_ that without high heels?_

"Chuck?" she called from around the corner. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes dear," he called slopping a lot of juice in the glass. "Do you know if we have a few dozen oysters lying around?"

She laughed. "Vitamin E and zinc in the medicine cabinet."

He ran across the hall.

She waited a few seconds, but he didn't reappear. "You coming?"

"Yes dear," he replied, frantically shaking the bottles, trying to open them.

"Hmm, pity."

* * *

Morgan woke alone, his alarm sounding a bit muffled, quieter than usual. He reached out a hand to shut it off and touched cloth. _Cloth?_ Oh yeah, he thought bringing the offending clothlike item into his field of vision. His handkerchief.

"_I can get this cleaned and give it back to you," _Alex had said the night before.

"_Don't worry," _he'd replied_. "I need it for this presentation tomorrow and—hey, would you like to come?"_

She'd looked uncertain_. "Come to what?"_

"_The presentation." _He shrugged._ "They're giving me another medal."_

"_You don't sound happy about it."_

"_I don't feel like I really deserve it."_ I don't deserve it._  
"People who deserve medals usually do, that's what my mother says."_

"_I'd like to meet your mother."_

Morgan winced, remembering her slightly nervous laugh as she'd handed him his handkerchief and fled the room. He looked at the cloth, still folded neatly, but he couldn't see anything to show where her tears had gone. "The first of many," he thought, surprising himself.

_What is it with me and Federal Agents?_

* * *

Chuck woke, not alone. Knowing how much she hated to get up early, he counted it as a win that Sarah didn't impale his phone when it started to ring. He moved as little as he had to to answer it. "Bartowski. …Hi, Morgan… Yes I know I sound terrible, you'd sound terrible too if you just woke up from a coma… No, not the coma per se, but the after-coma, if you know what I mean… Yes, I know it's my fault. What do you want, Morgan?... My government contacts? You think I can just…Fine. Yes, I can ask. What's the name?"

Suddenly Chuck sat bolt upright, and Sarah gave up any pretense of being asleep.

"Yeah, buddy, I got that," he said, working hard to keep the same sleepy tone in his voice as before. "I'll see what I can find out, but no promises, okay?...Yeah. I'll see you at the ceremony." He put the phone down.

Sarah sat up. "Chuck?"

"You heard all that?" Of course she heard all that. She probably heard Morgan's carpal tendons flexing.

"What's all your fault?" She sounded…irate.

"Um…"

"Chuck?" She sounded _more_ irate.

Busted. "It's my fault that I married a leggy Valkyrie with an aversion to clothing," he said in a rush.

"What?" She thought back on what she'd heard. "Oh, the after-coma." She shook her head. "Forget that. What's this name he wants you to dig up intel on?"

"It's…this girl he likes. Her father died in Honduras and they won't tell her why. He wants me get whatever I can for her."

So? "Is it classified?" Chuck would never tell, if it was classified, not even to Morgan.

"Yes, but that's not the worst part."

That didn't sound good. "What's the worst part?"

"Her father's name is Alex Coburn."

* * *

**A/N2 **Thought I'd forgotten him, didn't you? No, of course you didn't.**  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N **From here on out I'll br doing things a little differently. The wedding is cvoming up in the last episode, so i have 4 episodes left to do five episodes worth of story. Fortunately the next three episodes, Role Models, Tooth, and Living Dead, are a little light in the story department, so I'll be combining their elements, crunching three episodes down to two. At least that's the plan for right now.

* * *

"_I guess she had a lot to get back to."_

"_You hungry?"_

"_Wouldn't you like to know?"_

"_Her father's name is Alex Coburn."_

* * *

"Well, this is a refreshing change," said General Beckman, smiling as much as she ever did. "Everyone is here, on time, and awake, in spite of the early hour. My apologies for that."

"Thank you, General," said Chuck, "And I think I speak for all of us here—well, here in a globally connected, networking sort of way—" He waved his hands at all the insets on his monitor.

Sarah cut in. "I think what Chuck's trying to say, General…"

"Is that we're all glad to be back," said Carina.

"Can we please get down to business?" asked Casey.

Beckman glanced at Ellie's window, saw her stifling a smile, just as she was."Well, if your team works as well against the Ring as it does asking a simple question, we should have the war won in no time. To get down to business, Colonel, we have what appears to be a rogue team in possession of some critical software."

"Appears, General?"

"Exactly, Agent Carmichael."

Sarah winced. "General, may I respectfully request that that identity be retired?"

Beckman sighed. "Within these walls—yes Chuck, I'm aware the walls are virtual—within them, yes, but to the world at large Agent Charles Carmichael is alive and well. As soon as he can be retired, I'll be more than willing to let his wife go with him. Talk to Ellie if you want to speed up the process."

Sarah settled. "Thank you, General."

"Coincidentally, the team that appears to have gone rogue is also husband and wife. Craig and Laura Turner." Two pictures expanded to occupy the center of the screen, an older couple, their faces showing all the signs of long and hard careers.

"Never heard of 'em," said Casey.

"Of course not, Colonel," said Beckman, a little miffed at the interruption. "This team has been our go-to team of operatives for over thirty years, but never under those names. Perhaps you know them better as George and Bitsy Witherspoon, or John and Suzie Smythe, or any of a number of others?" More photos appeared, obviously the same couple, but from younger and apparently happier days.

"I've heard of _them_," said Casey.

"So have I," said Sarah.

"Then you'll understand why I need to know why such an exemplary team of agents appears to have stolen the very software they were tasked to acquire for us."

"You think the Intersect can find them, General?"

"No, Chuck, you have a backlog of work on your plate, and the Turners are far too clever to appear on any grid. Fortunately, their target, Otto von Vogel, the creator of the software, is less clever. We're tracking him to DC, and we suspect he is in pursuit of the Turners himself. Your team will follow him to apprehend them."

"Will this require the whole team, General?"

She gave him a curious frown. "Why do you ask, Chuck?"

He didn't look at Sarah."We had a bit of a pingback from an earlier mission a little while ago. I got a phone call from Morgan, asking for information about a man on behalf of that man's daughter."

Casey sneered. "If he thinks telling some Ring princess her father's a scum-of-the-earth traitor is going to help him get into her pants, he's even dumber than I ever thought he was."

"Actually, Casey, her father died with honor, Honduras, 1989." Chuck watched Casey's face. "All she wants are the circumstances surrounding that death." A picture appeared on the monitor, an FBI ID photo. "Her name is Alex McHugh, an FBI trainee. Her father is Alex Coburn." He shifted his gaze to his superior's window. "Mr. Coburn's name came up during another mission, General, but his records are sealed and the Inter—"

Casey spoke suddenly. "I'll take this one, General, if that's all right with you?"

Beckman was surprised, but had learned years before never to show it, pretending instead to consider the offer. "I have no objections at this time, Colonel, but the Vogel operation takes precedence. If Agents Miller and Bartowski need you, I expect you to respond."

"I will, General."

Beckman nodded, and left the meeting.

"And Casey, remember, this is a low-profile assignment. Morgan is the contact."

Casey smiled, or maybe he snarled, it was hard to tell. "Oh, believe me, Bartowski, I have every intention of going through Morgan."

* * *

Chuck sat staring at the monitor after everyone disappeared, eyes wide. "Did I just make a horrible mistake?"

Sarah thought a second. "Well, I'm having trouble finding a positive spin for it."

He turned his look on her, unchanged. "But I did the right thing, though, didn't I?"

She patted his hand. "Of course you did, that's why it feels like a horrible mistake right now. R_eal_ horrible mistakes usually take a while to feel that way." She stood, and he followed. "My advice, ask Ellie, she's good with that."

"Right." He took a deep breath, settled down. "Right. I'll go do that." He got his coat.

"Um, Chuck?"

"Yes?"

"You remember we only put on our shirts for the meeting, right?"

He looked down at himself, still in pajamas below the waist. "Oh yeah."

* * *

Carina was grumpy all the way to the airport, and it wasn't just the traffic, either. "You know, your husband is a real spoilsport, dropping that Coburn thing right at the end like that. I didn't have a single snarky line ready to go. These things take preparation, a little heads-up would've been nice."

"You handcuffed him to the bed in his underwear, Carina, that should be snark enough for three lifetimes." Not that Chuck had said anything about Casey, but he didn't have to in that crowd.

"Says the woman who took a picture of it. You could at least have sent me a copy."

"That's not snark, that's blackmail. Sharing it sort of defeats the purpose."

"Oh." Carina looked enlightened. "Is that how you and Chuck, uh…?"

"You're kidding, right? A picture of him in his underwear, cuffed to a bed, isn't about to make a man like Casey turn away from his duty." Otherwise she'd have done it right away. "There's only one thing in the universe powerful enough to pull that off."

Carina laughed. "Use the Force, Chuck."

"Oh my god, he's gotten to you too." He used his bedbug mind powers, or whatever they were called.

Carina shook her head. "Blame it on Martin." 'Upping her nerd cred', he'd called it. They hadn't gotten around to seeing the third movie, or was it the sixth, and now they never would.

"Morgan."

Suddenly Carina was sick of that game. "Whatever." She dropped her head, grumbling.

"What was that?"

"I said, I hope she doesn't hurt him too."

"It's not Alex hurting him you should be worried about."

* * *

"Of course you did the right thing, Chuck," said Ellie, sounding utterly blasé as she made her notes. "Casey's not going to hurt anyone."

Chuck paused buttoning his shirt. "Hello? Long-lost daughter?" He held up one hand. "Morgan?" He held up the other.

"'Long-lost' sort of implies he knew about her before he found her, which he only did because of Morgan." Her implication being that Casey would be fair about it, not always a safe assumption. "And since he didn't find her before she became an FBI trainee, I don't think who she dates is any of his business."

Chuck spread his arms."Casey has a rather…expansive view of what's his business, El." He's a Colonel. He's in the NSA. "He's a Marine."

Ellie sat back and smiled up at him. "Well, if she really is his daughter, maybe she'll have an equally expansive view of what's not." She made a fist. "You did the right thing, little brother, you always do. You make me so proud." She yawned, spoiling the moment.

"Late night, sis?"

She meant to only nod, but somehow a contented smile and soft mewling sound came along for the ride. Both of them turned bright red. Ellie suddenly found something important to do that required a complete focus on her screen.

Chuck started backing away. "I'm…gonna go to the little Intersect's room, sis, be right back."

Ellie didn't look up. "Just give me a call when you're ready for upload," she said, perfectly content to wait until the afternoon to look her brother in the eyes again. She still had that damn Carmichael report to finish, and the General should at least hear Manoosh's idea.

* * *

"Grimes!"

Chef Morgan turned his head, but the pancakes needed flipping so he didn't turn the rest of him. "Casey? What are you doing here?" Back to his business.

Casey grunted. "I came for the waffles, I hear they're to die for."

Morgan smiled down on his masterpieces. "Really?"

"No. You asked a question this morning, and I'm here to find out if you should be allowed to know the answer."

That made him turn. "It's not my answer, it's Alex' answer." His face fell. "Come on, Casey. Don't leave her to suffer just because you don't like me!"

Casey smiled. _One down. _"What makes you think I don't like you?"

Morgan started counting off his fingers. "You snarl at me, hit me, you call me idiot all the time…"

"I do that to everyone, Grimes, or hadn't you noticed. I don't do any of those things to people I don't like. I just put a bullet between their eyes and go out for a late snack." He looked past Morgan. "You know, speaking as something of a pancake connoisseur, I have to say those look pretty good."

Morgan grinned. "You want some?"

He was testing Morgan. It was his duty. _That's the ticket. _"It's not too much trouble?"

"For a friend like you, Casey, never!" Morgan leaned a bit closer. "But you'll have to come inside, I'm only supposed to cook for the guests."

"I don't want to get you in any trouble."

"No trouble, Casey. You'll be my guest. The Chef's Table is a time-honored tradition in all the fine dining establishments."

_Test passed. _Casey pushed through the flap. "It's a B&B, nimrod." Not that he didn't sit himself promptly down.

Morgan poured more batter. "Gotta start somewhere. Today a B&B, tomorrow, uh, some famous restaurant somewhere!"

"Is that the best you can do?"

"I'm working on it, Casey. Maybe if you guys would stop dragging me to these award ceremonies I could make some progress on my career path."

Casey sat, watching Morgan putter in his domain. He certainly seemed to know knew his business, although why he put on a new waffle when no new orders had come in Casey didn't know. He'd never been a big fan of waffles, for some reason. The bearded troll was taking his time over this one, too, but not so much that he didn't get his pancakes perfect too.

* * *

Sarah yawned, which made Carina yawn. "Damn it, Blondie, stop doing that!"

"Sorry," said Sarah, not sounding at all sorry. "Late night." She resumed her surveillance, a slight smile on her lips.

Carina smirked. "If you need any tips in learning how to pace yourself, you know who to call."

"Don't you think I rely on Casey too much already?"

_Ohmigod, brain bleach! _"And stop doing _that_ even more!"

Sarah continued looking out the window. "Just torturing you on my husband's behalf."

Carina took the binoculars. "He can get his licks in anytime he wants."

"He'd better not."

_Not so funny now, is it, Blondie?_ "Plane."

Sarah got out the camera, ready to take some pictures to send to Chuck.

* * *

Casey was about to pour on the syrup when Morgan took it from his hands. The little guy went to his refrigerator and brought out a little jug.

"Special stock," he whispered.

Real Vermont maple syrup, Casey knew what the good stuff tasted like.

Someone came to the window. "Hi, Morgan."

He grinned. "Hey, Alex, I mean, Miss McHugh. Got your waffle right here." He lifted his little piece of artistry to the window ledge, and offered her the little jug.

She gave him a slight frown. "Morgan, I've told you before, I'll use the regular stuff. Especially in front of witnesses." She nodded towards the chef's table, and its occupant. "Hi Mr. Casey. How's your friend?"

Casey's watch started beeping. "Nuts!"

Alex and Morgan watched as he abandoned his breakfast and ran out the door.

"What'd I say?"

* * *

The screen spiked and the speaker groaned. "Chuck, what's the matter?" asked Ellie.

"Oh, this really hurts," he muttered. "These flashes hurt a lot, Ellie."

She noted the time. "What did you flash on?"

"Sarah sent me some pictures, the usual bad guys, except that this one's got a Bengal tiger on a leash!"

* * *

**A/N2 **Oh my gosh, is the Intersect finally becoming...unstable?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N **Combining pieces of the Tooth episode with Role Models in this chapter.

* * *

"_May I respectfully request that that identity be retired?"_

"_I did the right thing, though, didn't I?"_

"_What makes you think I don't like you?"_

"_This one's got a Bengal tiger on a leash!"_

* * *

"He's got a _what?_"

"You heard me, Dirtnap. A tiger, a large cat with stripes and a bad attitude, on a very long leash."

They'd better not have dragged him out of his suddenly very interesting interview for nothing. "I know what tigers are, Stampede. What I want to know is what you expect me to do about it. You allergic, or something?" _I'm late for work, and the second floor men's waits for no man._

"Well, obviously we need you to get over here and wrestle the damn thing into submission. Or get some heavy-duty tranqs for us. Your choice."

* * *

Ellie's eyes bugged out, not that Chuck could see it. "On a leash? Can you do that?"

"Legally, yes," said Chuck, rubbing his eyes, not that she could see it. "Physically, you'd need balls of brass and skin of steel, or really good track shoes and a sniper on staff. This big guy-"

"Don't be sexist."

"Fine, this guy _or gal_ is probably kept tranqed most of the time, at least a little bit."

Not good enough. "I'd have him tranqed a lot."

"Don't be sexist, sis."

She could hear him smiling. Ellie made a face at the speaker, threw herself back in her chair. "Fine, him or her. Unconscious. In a zoo. I'd visit on weekends."

Chuck grinned, glad she couldn't see him. She sounded a shade petulant, like she always did when she got hoist on her own petard. "Yeah, well, you probably wouldn't need to sic him on someone, every now and again, to prove what a bad-ass and fearless software developer you are. That didn't sound right."

"Oh, so only you're allowed to be a bad-ass nerd, now?"

"Your Earth bad-ass is not like our nerd bad-ass, human female. This guy offends me so much, I may just have to get all fractal on his geometry."

Ellie laughed, a delicious sound even truncated by the speaker's frequency limitations. "You're such a nerd." Her smile faded. "How's your head?"

* * *

"Did I hear you correctly, Colonel? A _Bengal_ tiger?"

"Could be worse, General."

"Explain the logic underlying that conclusion."

"Could be a Siberian. They're about twice the size, if I'm not mistaken."

"And what are your plans? You're not going to shoot it, I hope. They're both endangered and majestic." In her closet at home was a keepsake from her childhood, a toy stuffed tiger. She'd named it Spot. "Plus, a horde of animal-rights activists is the last thing we need right now. Or any time, really."

"Roger that, General." Casey's voice held traces of a fervent desire to put those animal-rights activists in front of a rampaging Bengal tiger and let them find out what 'bleeding heart' _really_ meant. "I'm on my way to get some animal-grade tranq darts and a rifle to deliver them. Then I'll mop a few floors and break for lunch."

"You seem to be putting more of yourself into your cover than I had originally intended."

"By 'lunch' I mean I'll catch Grimes at his ceremony and debrief…I mean, _brief_ him appropriately about this Coburn issue."

"Good. The sooner that nonsense is behind you, the sooner you can support your teammates properly."

_Nonsense. _Heh. "Understood."

* * *

"Chuck, this isn't working."

"You're telling _me_?" he moaned into his microphone.

The doctor made a decision with the sister's full support. "Stop flashing. Don't look at any pictures, just lay back and close your eyes while we get some scans. The upload hasn't changed, so whatever's causing this pain has to be with you."

"Okay."

She opened a new line. "Manoosh?"

"What's up, boss?"

He was there. Of course he was there, he was always there. Whatever would she do without him? "What's your status with that Ring material?"

"I broke the encryptions on the flash drives a long time ago, trying to figure out what the stuff on them was supposed to do. The disc is much harder, I couldn't hack the password so I'm brute forcing it."

"That will take some time, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah. I'm focusing on the drives for now while the program runs. What do you need?"

"I'm bringing up the scanner on the Host. I could use another set of eyes."

"I love the scanner. Bring it on!"

He was such a goof. "Your gallant sacrifice in the name of science and our nation's security is appreciated, Manoosh. Bringing it on, now."

The speaker sighed appreciatively.

Back to line one. "Chuck?"

The speaker snored at her.

"Not the only one with a late night, was I, little brother?" She turned it down. Time to bite the bullet and inform the boss.

* * *

"Okay, Ellie, thanks for keeping me in the loop." Sarah pocketed her phone with a sigh.

Carina spared her a glance as she drove. "Something wrong with Chuck?"

"He can still flash, but now they cause him a lot of pain."

Carina went from _It never ends _ to _how do you stand it?_ in the blink of an eye, but managed to keep all such comments behind her teeth. "Is that a symptom of something?"

"No one knows," said Sarah softly, looking down at her hands. "None of the other test hosts stayed sane long enough to tell."

"Sounds like a good reason to put this case to bed and get you back to him."

Sarah ran her fingers over the charms on her bracelet. "Yeah."

* * *

Casey stored the special rifle and the box of darts, their dosage carefully calibrated for the tiger's estimated mass, safely in his trunk before racing to the driver's seat. He'd learned far more than he would ever need to know about tiger habits and anatomy—"Just tell me where to shoot, dammit!"—he still hadn't taken care of the second floor men's, and now he was running late for the ceremony. After the flashing of his badge, the dropping of a name, and the telling of a small lie ("Charles Bartowski is my code name"), he was shown to a seat reserved for guests of the guest of honor, where he was seated next to a young lady named Alex, whose code name was apparently Sarah.

"I hope you and Mrs. Bartowski enjoy the ceremony," said his escort.

Casey froze the poor junior agent with a look. "Does this woman look like my wife?"

Alex stood up and gripped Casey's arm. "Now, 'Dad', don't scare him. You look so young, Mom told you this would happen." She glanced over at the paralyzed escort, and whispered, "This is the part where you run away."

He sketched her a salute automatically. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

Alex tugged on Casey's arm as the young man fled back up the aisle. "Come on, 'Dad'. Stop staring like that or you'll frighten all the Generals."

Casey allowed himself to be tugged down into the seat, furious that he'd almost blown his cover's cover. "Nice save, that was quick thinking. They teach you that at the FBI?"

She shook her head. "Shopping with Mom. Guys would come up to her all the time and act as if they thought we were sisters."

That would never have flown. _Kath always knew who and what she was._ "Isn't that supposed to be a compliment?"

She sighed. "A lie is a very poor way to say hello."

_Or goodbye._ Casey shifted uncomfortably in his seat. _Like mother, like daughter._

"Maybe that's why I like Morgan so much."

Suddenly Casey wished he could tell her the truth, just to shut her up. No father needed to hear that. But he couldn't, so he pounced on something else that was true and threw it out there. "Say what you like about the little twerp-and I could say a lot, believe me-he's as honest as the day is long."

She gave him a dirty look. "I hope you and all his friends realize just what a good man he is." _Don't call him twerp._ Especially when he's getting the Medal of Valor.

"I'm not really his friend. I'm Chuck's friend. I mean, I wouldn't have ever met Morgan if it hadn't been for Chuck. They're something of a package deal. He sort of grew on me." _Like a fungus._

"Who, Morgan or Chuck?"

Casey grunted. "Both."

"Yet here you are."

He shrugged. "Chuck couldn't be."

"Why don't I believe that?"

"What, that Chuck couldn't be here?"

"That that's why you're here."

Suddenly the lights over the podium brightened, saving Casey from the need to reply.

* * *

_Clad in black leather, the two ninjas approached the edge of the roof and jumped off for a balcony fifty feet below, landing on stiletto heels with catlike grace. One knelt at the red balcony door, lock picks in hand, but the other had her car keys out and speared the lock first. The living room was deserted, light flickering from the big screen TV as Frankenstein's Monster rampaged through the lab_

–flicker–

_as Christmas-suited aliens strangled and fell._

_The ninjas sneered at the movie, then pulled out their devices and located the safe built into the wall behind the Tron poster _

–flicker–

_behind the framed print of a Bengal tiger. They picked the lock with a piece of drugged meat and opened the door. Inside was a picture of Charles and Sarah Bartowski, the CIA's go-to couple for thirty years, their faces lined and weary with their hard life_

–flicker–

_inside was a collar, studded with diamonds and cell phones_

–flicker–

_inside was a can of Marasca cherries. They took the cherries but just then someone fumbled at the lock on the front door. The ninjas closed the safe and hid in the closet, listening as someone moved through the apartment. Suddenly one of the cell phones on the collar started to Ring, and the ninjas buried themselves in the racks of wedding dresses as the closet door exploded–_

* * *

Chuck sat up, shouting. He 'd been lying on a cot in the Intersect room, lights dimmed.

The speaker started shouting, making him dizzy. "Graboid, what's happening? How do you feel?"

He felt like falling back onto the cot, but he had no comm unit there. Instead he staggered over to the station where the comm unit was. "I'm here, Ellie."

"How's your head? What were you doing in there?"

"Um…sleeping?"

"You were spiking on three different bands at _the same time_, Chuck."

_Okay, and–? _"That's bad?"

"That's impossible. It's like you were…dreaming you were a ninja and writing a computer program while totally unconscious."

"I wasn't dreaming I was a ninja."

Typical. "Chuck–"

"I dreamed someone else was a ninja."

Ellie'd had quite enough of this, thank you. "Write it down, Chuck. Write down everything you can remember about this dream. Do it now."

* * *

_Well, at least he didn't embarrass himself._ Or the country. Morgan stood straight and didn't fidget as the President described in suitably ambiguous detail the events that had led to today's presentation. He (Morgan, that is not the President) didn't even blush. Casey would have been proud of the kid if he hadn't been staring at Alex the entire time.

Casey naturally hung well back from any of the after-ceremony activities, especially the picture-taking. The way the news worked today, everything Morgan had ever done would be brought into the limelight. For a brief second he amused himself with the idea of the Secret Service descending on the Buy More to make sure nothing was said or done to embarrass the President. Maybe they'd just give every one of those morons the day off and staff it themselves. _Nah, that'd be a dead giveaway._ No one would ever believe an efficiently run Buy More.

To his surprise, Alex was right there with him. "Why aren't you up there?" he asked, against his every instinct. "This is his moment, doesn't he want you to share it with him?"

"Probably. He has a sort of boggled look right now, doesn't he? But we never discussed it and…well, everything he did in Hawaii and elsewhere is going to get brought up. He may not be safe."

Casey looked enlightened. "He's got a target on his back."

She nodded. "In the shadows is a good place to be right now."

"You don't want to be collateral damage. I can understand that." _My daughter, a coward?_

"No." _You idiot. "_Weren't you listening? He's not safe. How can I or anyone else protect him with our pictures in every photo from here to China?"

_Great. Another Anna. _That'll torpedo this love boat real quick. "Great idea. He's always had a thing for Wonder Woman."

"He'd hate it, wouldn't he?" Secret identities and sneaking around making Steve Trevor look like a fool.

"Well…it's not honest." He noticed her grinning. "What?"

"You sound so much like my mother just now. Next thing you're gonna tell me is that you don't respect a man's courage by sticking him in a box."

He remembered that argument, where that had been _his _line. "I'm gonna take that, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead, it's one of my mother's anyway. It's the least I can do for you being my father today." She gave him a quick hug. "I've never had one before. Thank you."

He watched her walk back to Morgan in silence. _The pleasure was mine._

* * *

Dr. Leo Dreyfus sat at his desk, preparing for a suddenly laid-on appointment. The situation bothered him. As an orderly and methodical man, he was used to seeing his more dangerous patients in a more controlled setting than his office. Surely a meeting as urgent as this one implied an element of danger. As he busied himself preparing a chart for his mystery guest, the door opened and a man entered. Dr. Dreyfus looked up long enough to note the janitor's uniform and turned back to his papers. "Young man, as you can see, this office is occupied, and I will have a patient arriving soon. I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave now."

The man didn't reply, and the door didn't open. Instead, a thick envelope landed on the desk, right on top of the papers he was preparing, and Dreyfus looked up in surprise.

"Good afternoon, Doc," said Chuck. "I'm your two o'clock."

* * *

**A/N2 **No, Chuck wasn't disrespecting women with the ninja dream. It was a movie scene. Yeah, that's my story and I'm sticking with it.


	4. The Manhattan Project

**A/N **This is the last chapter of this episode, but the story continues. Chuck's dreams lead us into the second half of the Tooth, combined with Living Dead.

* * *

"_He's got a what?"_

"_Is that a symptom of something?"_

"_Why don't I believe that?"_

"_I'm your two o'clock."_

* * *

"Team One, this is Kaleidoscope. What's your situation?"

Carina was faster with her napkin, so she answered. "Kaleidoscope, we are on overwatch at an R-A-M in Silver Springs, feasting on overpriced and underflavored Chinese take-out."

"What the hell's an R-A-M?" Casey hated to ask, they could hear it in his voice.

"It's short for Rent-A-Mansion," said the DEA agent, and added, "A rich house with a poor owner."

"Don't feel bad, Casey," said Sarah. "I didn't know what it was either."

"Why would I feel bad about that?" said Casey back. "I don't expect you guys in the CIA to know anything. That's where our guy Vogel's holed up?"

There was a large animal enclosure on the grounds, but nothing was in it at the moment. "I think even the Grand Ambassador would draw the line at an uncaged tiger on the premises."

"They might," agreed Casey with a grunt. "I'm sure they'd turn a blind even to that, if the money was right."

"For that price he can get the house, with fewer questions asked."

Carina shook her head. "Not the whole thing, just a part of it. And not for long," she added. "Without a subscription, he's paying through the nose for this place, even for a week. I doubt he's planning to wait that long."

"Sounds like the Turners are on their way. Any ideas on how to find them before Vogel does?"

Sarah ran her fingers over her charm bracelet. "It would help if we knew how Vogel knew where they were."

"You haven't heard from Eagle-Eye, then?"

Carina and Sarah shared a look. "You didn't hear, Kaleidoscope?"

Even over the phone Casey's voice dripped with suspicion. "I was at the ceremony."

"Doctor took Eagle-Eye off line," said Carina. "We got something, but he–" _got it from a dream. _Yeah, Casey would bank on that. "His source is unreliable and it doesn't make a lot of sense."

"Unreliable?" _Carina_ was using that word.

Both ladies heard the sub-text, so Sarah stepped up. "According to Doctor, it's valid, just…cryptic. They called in a specialist to help interpret."

Sarah calling her husband's last flash valid was infinitely more reassuring. "We can't wait. Gimme what you got."

* * *

Leo Dreyfus thumbed through a stack of newly-signed-for and as-yet-unread documents about his newest client as he chatted. "The symbolism of dreams is a fascinating subject, Chuck, well-marked out, and yet unique to each dreamer, in your case especially." He dropped the papers onto his desk with a splash. "I find this…Intersect's use of the tiger imagery to be especially fascinating–"

Chuck didn't look over from where he reclined on the firm leather couch. "Uh, Doc, there really is a tiger involved in the case, so, not so fascinating."

"Oh." He gave Chuck a mild look over the rims of his glasses. "And the stiletto-heeled ninjas?"

"Uh…movie, I think." Chuck turned his head to look at the doctor. "Underworld, where the vampires leap off the bell tower at the beginning…no?"

Dreyfus shook his head, looked down at the list of notes he'd made in his pad. "Are these…flashes of yours always so personal?"

Chuck sat up and rotated his body into a sitting position, all in one move. "No, Doc, that's what I'm saying. They're _never_ personal. I've always…received information from the flashes, never put the information into some other image."

"So the question is, why are you doing so now? What has changed?"

_What hasn't? _"Don't go there, Doc. The question is, what do all these images mean? Let Doctor handle the Intersect, she built the damn thing."

"The answer is in you, Chuck, not the code. You and the Intersect are linked, this dream shows us that much. It's operating in combination with your subconscious mind."

"That's never happened before, Doc. I've always been conscious."

"I beg to differ, Chuck, having met Charles Carmichael, in _your_ flesh. Has he been around lately?"

* * *

High-heeled ninjas? Casey's lip curled in silent contempt. _Sounds like a videogame_. Red door, Tron poster, check, check, check. "Marasca cherries? Why'd he come up with that?"

"We don't know, Casey," said Sarah. "We googled it, got a lot of historical data, but nothing helpful."

"As far as I know, there's a maraschino liqueur made out of it, and the original maraschino cherry."

"That's what we found. How did you know?"

"All the bartender jobs I've had to pull, how could I _not_ know?"

"You make it sound pretty common."

"Well, it's not common, the stuff's kind of expensive. You get booze snobs all over, especially the kind of high-end parties we used to stake out, who want their drinks made with only the 'correct' ingredients. Bunch of show-offs."

"So now what, we track all the imports of marasca cherries into DC?" Carina didn't sound thrilled with the prospect. Not only was it analytical work, but it would probably take too long.

"Probably the country," said Casey.

"Dammit!" said Sarah suddenly, "This is exactly what we need Chuck for."

"There are other analysts than Chuck," said Casey testily. The last thing they needed was another pair of eyes brought into the project.

"Do you know one that's anywhere near as good?"

"No."

"Yes," said Carina. "That Hannah girl, you were always raving about her."

Complete silence reigned.

"Well?"

Casey chuckled over the phone. "Go ahead, Walker, what have you got to lose?"

_Bartowski, dammit! _Sarah fumbled with her pockets. "Not as much as you do if you ever call me Walker again."

"Got you moving, didn't it?"

Carina smirked silently, and Sarah played with her screen a few seconds as Casey wisely said nothing. "Hannah? Yes, it's important, why else would I…exactly…Would you believe marasca cherries?...Just like it sounds…Imports, main consumers, especially in the DC area…Yes, we have a Grand Ambassador, why do you…of course they did. No one told you to take the…really, one hundred twenty seven percent? That's great…okay, I'll let you go back to making it one hundred twenty eight. We'll check there first. Yes, we'll speak tonight, if you don't call back sooner. Thanks." She put the phone away and started the car. "Casey?"

"I heard. What's your play?"

Sarah waited until the car had turned and leveled out. "You're not done?"

"She's always around."

"And you're complaining?"

"She's always around _Morgan_."

"You're complaining."

"Marines don't complain. They take action."

"Fine, as long as you're ready to back us up if we need it."

"I said I'll be there, I'll be there."

Carina waited until the screen went dark. "One hundred twenty seven percent of what?"

"Efficiency and performance improvement."

"And she's been there what, a month?"

Sarah grinned, happy for her friend. "Less."

"No wonder you liked her so much, she's a female version of Chuck. How did she know about the Grand Ambassador so soon?"

"Coworker took her to the hotel bar there, tried to impress her with his knowledge of mixed drinks. Apparently the marasca cherry is the _only_ cherry to be used in a real Manhattan, and _only_ the Grand Ambassador stocks them, and blah blah blah. She'll text me if she finds anything else."

Carina wrinkled her nose in distaste. "He sounds like either a snob or a lush."

"Funny you should say that…"

* * *

They finally emerged from the restaurant where they'd gone for their lunch, Alex on Morgan's arm. She was guiding him toward her car, but for some reason he balked at getting in.

Casey aimed a shotgun mike at them.

"-glad you came, really I am, I couldn't have made it without you, but you've got classes. I'll catch a ride back to the apartment on my own."

Alex hesitated. "If you're sure–"

"I'm sure. I'm only gonna take a nap anyway, gotta get my sleep schedule back on track, I work tomorrow."

"Okay." Alex gave him a kiss-on the cheek, Casey was glad to see-and got in her car. Casey put the mike away.

Morgan watched her go, his hand reaching up to touch his cheek, and a smile creeping over his face, the smile of a happy man. He looked up the street, clearly in search of a taxi.

_Time to end this._ "Grimes!" called Casey.

Morgan looked around, spotting him on the other side of the street, and quickly walked over. "Casey, buddy, what are you doing here? I was gonna get a cab–"

"Get in the _car_, Grimes."

Morgan got in the car, and made sure to buckle up this time. "Thanks for the lift."

"It's not a lift," said Casey, pulling out into traffic. "Your little nap's gonna have to wait, I've been trying to get you alone all damn day!"

* * *

Ellie and General Beckman were discussing something, probably him, when Chuck walked back in his sister's office, but they put their conversation on hold. "Hey Chuck, how was your visit to the company shrink?"

"He's a CIA psychiatrist, Ellie, and you guys really threw him in at the deep end."

"He asked for it, Mr. Bartowski," said Beckman. "Dr. Dreyfus refused to participate in your case without full disclosure."

"Consider me disclosed."

"And his findings?"

"Will be reported to my commanding officer in due course." He nodded at Ellie.

"Chuck!"

"Yes, General?"

The expression he turned to her was so bland Beckman knew she'd just been played. "Very funny. You will be happy to know that the marasca cherries appear to have been a solid lead after all. Your wife and Agent Miller are on their way to apprehend the Turners as we speak."

"That's excellent news, General." Suddenly Chuck dropped his cheerful façade. "Ah, while we're all here together, one thing that Dr. Dreyfus said got me thinking. He wanted to know if we'd seen Charles Carmichael around lately…"

"Not since he almost got you killed, thank God."

"Why did he ask?"

"He thinks, um, that the Intersect is interacting with my subconscious mind, originally as him. Now he thinks it's using my dreams, so I was wondering–"

"If Carmichael was gone for good, and it needed a new outlet."

"Exactly, sis."

"How can we find out?"

"Carina's code, the one she used to call Carmichael out of me that night."

Beckman remembered all too well the tortured reshaping of his face after he heard that code. "You're either desperate or insane."

"A little of both, General, a little of both. He's got me feeling like a walking advertisement for Forbidden Planet right now and I just want to know that it's over."

"Or not."

He blew out a gusty sigh. "Or not."

"What are you thinking, little brother?"

"I'm thinking hospital restraints, sis."

* * *

Sarah and Carina stared at their prisoners in amazement.

Sarah's beautiful face twisted in disgust."You asked us to bring you to a safe house, you say this is all a misunderstanding, and now that we're here, all you want to do is pin the blame on each other? You guys are legends!"

"Screw that. You guys are _partners_," added Carina.

They gave her a sad, tired, weary look. "Call us in thirty years," said Mr. Turner, "Show us how shiny your youthful idealism is then."

Carina handed her gun to Sarah and grabbed Mr. Turner by his collar, hauling him to his feet. And Mrs. Turner as well, since they were cuffed together. "I don't have to wait thirty years, jackass! I don't have to wait thirty _days_. Less than a week ago I…betrayed…" She dropped her head, pointed back at Sarah. "My partner's husband was captured because of me."

The Turners looked at Sarah, shocked. She watched as their hands came together instinctively, joined by more than just metal chain.

"We, they, managed to get him back. They managed to save his life, his mind, and his sanity." Carina looked him in the eye. "But do you want to know the true miracle of it all?"

Mr. Turner nodded. "Here you are."

Mrs. Turner smiled ruefully. "They stayed away from your face, but I'm guessing you're wearing long sleeves in this weather for a reason."

She grinned at them both, letting go of his collar. "The miracle is I'm still her bridesmaid."

The Turners looked confused. "I thought you said she was married?"

"It's a long story." Someone knocked on the door. Carina backed up and reclaimed her gun. "Is that Casey?"

Sarah checked the monitor. "It's a tiger." She looked at Carina, stunned. "How did they know we were here? _We_ didn't even know we were coming here!"

Carina dumped out the Turner's bag, picking up the large leather strap that fell out. "Sarah. Look at this."

Sarah took a look at all the studs and fixtures. "Diamonds and cell phones! Dammit! It's got a tracker built in."

* * *

Morgan shook his head in wonder. "That's-Wow! That's just the most incredible story I've ever heard!"

_Heh. _"Yeah," thought Casey, "Emphasis on story."

"A mission like that…and he was so…no wonder it's classified! And you're sure I can tell this to Alex?"

Casey gave him a small nod. "You're twice a Medal of Valor recipient, and it's been twenty years. I think I can trust you to use your judgment on this. Just leave my name out of it."

"But, after what you did? Why?"

Casey looked as sad as he could. "I couldn't save him. I couldn't even bring his body back. For a Marine, that's the ultimate disgrace."

Morgan patted Casey's back sympathetically. "Don't worry, big guy, I got your back. Your name shall never pass these lips."

Casey's phone started beeping. "Nuts!" With a twist he turned the car around.

* * *

Ellie tightened the straps carefully. "Give it a pull."

Chuck tugged, and the straps held firm. "That should hold until you can use the tranq darts."

With Beckman watching the scene and Manoosh watching the scanner, Ellie took a position in front of Chuck, gun in one hand and paper in the other. "You ready?" He nodded. She raised the paper. "Orange, orange, green, red, orange, red."

Chuck looked relieved. "Nothing."

Ellie wasn't buying it. "Manoosh?"

"Nothing, Boss."

Ellie pushed the table with the monitor on it over the bed. "Let's try with Carina's voice. It worked before." She clicked her mouse, and the computer played back the recording.

Still nothing. Carmichael was gone, it seemed.

* * *

John Casey, the trained soldier, crept across the back yard of the safe house, reconnoitering. Morgan Grimes, the untrained Medal of Valor recipient, refused to stay behind in the car.

_Typical._

Casey spotted a lump in the dark, splayed out on the lawn. As he was checking it out his backup walked into his back. "Oh, there you are, Casey. Couldn't see you." He looked down. "What's that?"

Casey's voice rumbled from the darkness. "Knocked out bad guy." Something jingled. "What the hell is _this_?"

Something else rumbled from the darkness.

"That didn't sound like you, Colonel."

"It wasn't me, idiot. It's a Bengal tiger." Casey looked, remembering all the useless info that hunter had thrown at him. "Female. Full grown. Don't move."

Sounds of sudden violence erupted from the house.

"Casey! They need us!"

"Tell that to the cat."

Morgan took several quick breaths. "Sir, yes, sir. Be ready to move." Suddenly Morgan was gone from his back, yelling "Here, kitty, kitty!"

The tiger bounded after him.

Morgan ran to the car, threw open the door, and piled inside with a large predator on his heels. The stench of cigars slowed it down for a second, so by the time it got inside the other door was already closing. Before it could maneuver its bulk around, Morgan raced around to the driver's side and shut the first door, trapping the beast within. He turned and offered a thumbs up–

To no one. Casey was at the house, and Morgan ran to join him.

Casey whacked him upside the head. "They need us, huh?"

Morgan looked inside to see Sarah and Carina, standing opposite an older couple, with some unconscious bad guys between them. "It sure sounded like it."

They turned to look at Casey's car, rocking wildly as something moved within. "Tell me, genius, when you lured it in there, did you have a plan for getting it back out?"

"Chuck's the brains, sweethea–I mean, Colonel."

"Roger that." Casey sat on the step, lit up one of his cigars and took a few puffs. "Morgan, I misjudged you."

"You did? Sir?"

"Yeah. You lured a full-grown Bengal tiger into a car, with no exit strategy. That is bar none stupider than anything I've ever seen the stupidest recruit do."

Morgan plopped down onto the step, head in hand. "I know."

"Also the bravest. Couldn't have accomplished the mission without it."

Morgan raised his head. "Sir? You mean that?"

"Of course I mean it, numb-nuts, I wouldn't let you within a mile of my daughter if I didn't."

"Your daughter?"

"Alex McHugh. It's her mother's name. Mine's Coburn. Keep it under your hat."

"But you said–"

"I lied. I do that."

"Oh, man! And I _liked_ that story too."

* * *

Chuck lay back on the couch, unwilling to go to the bed when his wife wasn't in it. She'd be a while getting back, too. According to her, the Turner's betrayal was a sham, intended to lure Vogel into a rash pursuit and eventual capture. Hey, it worked for the Spartans.

They recovered the software, that was nice. And he wasn't losing his mind, good to know. The cherries were important, and the cell phones. He could relax.

_What's the deal with all those wedding dresses?_ He couldn't answer that before he fell asleep.

* * *

Ellie Woodcombe walked into her house, alone, what with Devon being on call tonight. Her security was top notch, of course, but she still kept her panic switch under her thumb until she'd seen it for herself.

Halfway through her walkthrough the lights went out.

* * *

Sarah, Carina, and Casey all looked down as their watches started beeping.

* * *

**A/N2 **Cliffhanger, anyone?


End file.
